


Mr. Loverboy

by buckybuck (thestarsthesea)



Series: baby I could burn you down - a drabble series [4]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, an unintentional sequel!, bucky is Super Suave, clint if flipping out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7691293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsthesea/pseuds/buckybuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unintentional sequel to my previous fic <b>How Ya Doin'?</b></p>
<p>Takes place a month or so after the events of the first fic, so reading it might be a little helpful :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Loverboy

**Author's Note:**

> link to **[How Ya Doin'?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7261057)**

~***~

  


Clint really isn't a huge fan of bars most of the time. He'd much rather just get drunk at home, with his dog and inexpensive beer, thank you. It doesn't help that all the noise is hell on his hearing aids. They don't pick apart background noise well at all, so half the time he has trouble hearing someone right in front of him. So he tries to avoid it as much as possible.

But Nat downright refused to let him get out of it this time. She usually lets him get away with being generally antisocial, only really forcing him out in public to socialize if it's for dinner with Coulson or Kate (always somewhere quiet enough he never struggles to hear a damn thing), but this time she ignored every protest and plea and glared until he felt like it was either go, or lose his balls. So, wisely, he chose to go.

Nat raises an eyebrow in silent judgement of the faded old purple tshirt, and jeans that have seen _much_ better days, that he's in, but thankfully doesn't make him change. He doesn't really get why it's such a big deal. Sure, they're meeting her co-worker James there (for God knows what reason, every time Clint asks, Nat just shrugs a delicate shoulder and says, "I think you'd like him.", like that's _enough_ ), but that doesn't mean he's gonna dress to impress. This is _him_ , okay, he's not gonna impress anybody.

As soon as they enter the bar Clint can tell Nat put some thought into what place she chose; the bar isn't over packed, the music's not loud and overbearing, and the booths and tables are just far enough away from each other that conversations shouldn't bleed into each other too much. Natasha watches him assess the room, brow quirked in question, and Clint sends her a grateful little smile in answer. It's still a bar, with maybe a little bit too much going on, but it won't be impossible to hold a conversation, so it's better than most.

Clint gets them both a beer while Nat grabs a booth in the corner, then makes his way through tables and people to sit down across from her, facing the door. He's watching the entrance absently, lifting his beer for a drink, when a familiar face walks in. He almost drops the bottle as he whips his head around and down, slouching slightly in his seat and staring wide-eyed at the table top.

Natasha doesn't say anything, strangely, but Clint resolutely keeps his eyes down, not chancing a look up to see what she's doing. Who the fuck cares if Nat noticed, he's kind of having a crisis or whatever. Nat kicks him none too gently under the table, and it startles him enough that he snaps his gaze to her, just in time to catch her smile, and look to someone standing beside their table. She gestures at them, says, "Clint, this is James. James, this is Clint."

Clint looks up, over, and right into the stupidly handsome face of Bucky Barnes.

Clint freezes like a deer in headlights, not sure how to approach this ridiculous situation. Luckily Bucky doesn't seem to have the same problem; he flicks an eyebrow in a way that seems vaguely playful, a cocky grin slips onto his mouth, and he casually holds out a hand. Clint stares at it, then jolts a little, realising he's supposed to, ya know, actually shake this "stranger's" hand, and quickly thrusts his own into Bucky's.

He's really glad Bucky decided to go the nope-we've-never-met-before route because he never told Nat about his pretty foolish decision to go home with a guy he met on the _sidewalk_ for a one morning stand (even though he really wanted to, since that was some fucking _fantastic_ sex), because, well, she would have slapped some sense into him. Or, she would have tried, anyway.

Natasha moves, allowing Bucky to slide into the seat right in front of Clint. He shoots Clint a look as he settles that is one hundred percent _not_ okay to bring out anywhere other than a bedroom, because it is _hot_. Like, Clint is running the risk of _burning to death_ in this _bar_ , hot. Eyes half-lidded, but intense in a way Clint can feel even when he's not looking Bucky's way. And, wow, Bucky sure knows how to work his whole... ya know, _face_ , to his favour.

Bucky and Natasha are talking about some work thing, Clint thinks, but he can't really be sure with the way Bucky keeps shooting these short lusty looks across the table. Every time his eyes linger for a fraction of a second Clint sort of forgets what's going on. But can anyone really blame him? Bucky keeps looking at him like he wants to pull Clint over the table and shove his hand down Clint's pants. And Clint's dying alright, he is, because he _wants Bucky to pull him over the table and shove his hand down Clint's pants._

You'd never think Bucky was aware he's torturing Clint just by existing with how well he's carrying on a casual conversation with Nat (which Clint is barely contributing to, shit), but Bucky knows what he's doing. Clint can tell he does by the cocky set of his shoulders, and the occasional smirk he'll shoot him when Nat looks away for a second.

Eventually Natasha excuses herself, telling them she needs to use the restroom. She gives Clint some sort of significant look as she slides from the booth, but even as well as he knows her he can't figure out what she was trying to say with it. After twenty minutes of tense silence it's pretty clear she's not coming back. Great, there's no way she doesn't know something's up if she made herself scarce.

Clint's been looking everywhere _except_ Bucky, but once he realises there's no chance of Nat catching him at it he finally lets himself look, and, wow, okay.

Bucky's already looking at him, gaze heated and heavy, trained right onto Clint like there's nothing else at all worth his attention. Clint swallows, and Bucky's eyes flit downwards to follow the movement of his throat.

Clint flounders for _something_ to say that won't embarrass him, but all that comes out is a vaguely frantic, "I can't believe you know Nat! Your name is _James_! How did she never mention you have a _metal arm_?"

Bucky smirks and leans forward, body smooth and confident, his eyes half-mast and warm in a way Clint can only describe as fucking _bedroomy_ , and he looks so damn good he's almost _perfect_. God he just screams trouble, and Clint is always attracted to the ones that can be bad for him. Bucky shrugs one shoulder, lazy. "Natasha's always mentioning her disaster friend Clint, but she never said he was deaf and blonde. And hot." He winks and it's so stupid but Clint feels a jolt low in his stomach regardless. "Didn't put it together 'til a few days ago, when she mentioned something about you smashing one of your aids just by walking down the sidewalk. Then I finally decided I wanted to take her up on one of those invitations to meet you, see if you were the Clint I had an amazing morning with, then let walk out without getting his number." He grins ruefully. "Big mistake on my part, by the way."

Clint just stares, not sure what to think about that. He just figured Bucky didn't wanna see him again. It happens. Not like they went on a date or anything. He blinks as Bucky watches him for a reaction, but Clint just shrugs helplessly.

Bucky smiles, leans forward to snag Clint's beer out of his lax hand. He slides it over to himself, draining the rest of the contents in one long swallow. He tilts his head, smile still in place, lips wet and just as sinfully pink as they were when they first met. "So... wanna get out of here?"

And of fucking course he does. Like he hasn't been a second away from cracking and just throwing himself at Bucky since he's been here. Clint stares at Bucky's mouth, licks his lips. "Hell yeah."

Bucky's grin is bright and beautiful. They both scramble out of the booth, and Bucky grabs Clint's wrist to drag him through the crowd, the metal of his hand is cold but slowly warming against Clint's skin, and Clint can't help but grin at how familiar that is.

Once they're outside in the cool air, Bucky stops, yanking Clint into a mind-numbingly hot kiss that's just _perfect_ for how badly Clint's been wanting for the past hour. Bucky pulls away, plush wet lips pulled into a deliciously promising smirk. "Promise I won't even let the fantastic sex make me forget to get your number this time."

  
  
_****_

_**The next morning…** _

__

Clint wakes up warm, and wonderfully sore, and... vibrating? He flops a hand out vaguely, feeling along the edge of his mattress until he comes across his phone, that was somehow tucked snuggly between the bedside table and the bed.

He begrudgingly cracks an eye open to look at the screen, which cheerfully displays that he has an unread message from Natasha. He huffs, almost decides to ignore it, but she _did_ disappear last night. And Nat's the queen of discreet, but it was still a little odd for her to leave without comment. So he thumbs the message open, letting out a quiet groan when he sees what it says.

_You're an idiot for thinking I didn't know about your hungover one morning stand._

Clint buries his face into the pillow. Of course she fucking knew. Nat knows everything! He can't keep a secret from her to save his dumb life. He gave up on trying to find out how she does it a long time ago. His phone buzzes again in his hand, he cautiously peeks at the screen.

_You're welcome._

Clint huffs a laugh, but it goes shaky when a cold hand begins to trail lightly up his thigh, brushing against his hip bones and the bruises there, then running intently low across his abdomen.

And, fuck, okay he's gonna have to buy Nat the biggest handle of vodka he can get his hands on, and maybe even a new set of knives to pay her back for this.

He turns over, the hand sliding to rest heavy and deliberate on his ass, and meets Bucky for a pretty awesome good morning kiss.

  


~***~

**Author's Note:**

> So, hi, hello :)  
> One night I was chillin', some mad relaxin' goin' on ya know? Then, all the sudden, I had a flash of a scene that took place at some point after How Ya Doin'?, which startled me, considering I had absolutely no plans in adding to that drabble/oneshot at all! So if you enjoyed that, I hope this was a nice little addition for you! Lol
> 
> I have literally, like, seven winterhawk fics in the works. I just keep bouncing between them all, adding a little here and there, it's pretty much all a mess. My brain is a mess, my phone is a mess with half-fics everywhere, mess mess mess.
> 
> Anyway! Here's some whatever stuff lol  
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything remotely recognizable in this fic!  
> Title Credit: Mr. Loverboy by Little Mix (I had a thing going, alright? I had to)
> 
> As with a lot of what I produce these days, this was mostly written on my phone, HOWEVER I actually had a beta for this one! :O Shocking, I'm sure lol  
> So thank you to accept-nothing, who is very lovely and helpful, and fixed some of my punctuation related nonsense :)
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy!  
> <333


End file.
